


Swoon

by owltype



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Is a Good Bro, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pining, Scheming Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8711194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: Steve likes Tony and he thinks (hopes) Tony likes him back. The only way to be sure is to take Tony out on a series of dates and woo him properly. Hopefully, eventually, there will be kissing.





	1. Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knobblyfruit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knobblyfruit/gifts).



> My friend asked me to write her some fluff, so I did. This fic is DONE, except for minor edits and revisions; however, I chose to post it in segments because the fic that was supposed to be a one-shot spun out of control and turned into a 5,000+ word hot mess. Sooooo...you're welcome. :D

“If you stare any longer, your eyes are going to fall out.”  
  
To his credit, Steve doesn’t jump. He hopes that means he’s gotten used to having Natasha around, has acclimated to her feline grace and uncanny ability to sneak up on people without making a sound.  
  
“I’m not staring,” Steve mutters a beat too late.  
  
Natasha looks at him in that way she has that makes him feel like a child again. She touches him between the eyes and then, with the same finger, draws an invisible line between Steve’s gaze and what has caught his attention.  
  
It’s Tony. Lately, it’s always Tony.  
  
Steve pushes Natasha’s hand back down. “Yeah? What’s your point?”  
  
Natasha throws a knowing smile his way. “He’s a good-looking man.”  
  
Steve nods slowly. Aesthetically speaking, Tony  _is_  very attractive—and Steve always had been a sucker for brown eyes. But this, whatever it is, goes so far beyond physical desire. For Steve, there’s almost an echo of inevitability in it, like it’s fate or gravity or magnetism or…whatever. He’s drawn to Tony in a way he doesn’t understand, and at one time that had frightened him, so he hadn’t done anything about it. Besides, there had been that whole mess with Loki and the Chitauri, and after that The Mandarin and Aldrich Killian and Extremis…yeah, they’d been busy. There’d been no time for a fledgling romance.  
  
Now, though, things are different. Quieter, at least, and Steve feels restless. He’s never been a man of inaction, and this feeling of stasis is maddening to him. But though the serum enhanced many things, it hadn’t managed to erase any of his hang-ups. Though on the outside he looks like the peak of human perfection, on the inside he still feels like that gangly, sickly little guy that no woman or man had ever looked at twice.  
  
But he doesn’t want to live like that anymore. He doesn’t want to miss out on another chance at happiness because he’s afraid of rejection, or because he’s afraid he’s not good enough. He doesn’t want to be the person to stand in his own way again.  
  
Natasha taps Steve on the temple. “You’re far away; where are you?”  
  
Steve turns to Natasha. “I need your help.”  
  
Natasha pretends to consider this, but he can tell she’s pleased. “If it’s a question of getting him into bed, I think his reputation precedes him.”  
  
Steve rolls his eyes. “I was thinking something a little more old-fashioned.”  
  
“I have a few suggestions, actually,” comes a disembodied voice from inside the wall.  
  
Steve spins on his heel and thrusts his hand through one of the ventilation grates. He snags Clint by the ankle, dragging him out of the shaft and into the hallway. Clint falls to the floor with a soft  _oomph_  and stays there, staring up at Steve and Natasha sheepishly.  
  
“Does Tony know you’ve been messing around in his ductwork?” Steve asks in his Captain's voice.  
  
Clint stands up and brushes himself off. “Tony and I…have an agreement.” There’s a cryptic little smile on Clint’s face, which makes Steve uncomfortable. He can only imagine what an arrangement between Tony and Clint might entail. “Anyway,” Clint continues, “I think I can help you with your little problem.”  
  
Natasha makes a sound like she’s trying not to laugh. “What do you know about it?”  
  
Clint turns to stare her down. “I’ve spent more time in these air vents than you really want to know. I have  _seen things_.” He turns back to look at Steve. “And I know valuable information about our resident engineer. What d’ya say, Cap?”  
  
Well, Steve muses, it’s not like he has a choice _.  
_  
\-----  
  
Even with Clint’s (surprisingly vast) knowledge and Natasha’s silent encouragement backing him, Steve is still nervous. He’d taken on Nazis, HYDRA agents, even fucking  _aliens_  without shying away. But this? Talking to Tony? It terrifies him.  
  
And he’s not even to the  _really_ terrifying part yet. Because as much as Steve would like to skip the messy middle and get right to the ending, Clint is right: he can’t just come out of left field and tell Tony he has  _feelings_ for him. Tony’s track record with that kind of stuff leaves a lot to be desired, and if Steve came at him like that, Tony would just scuttle out of reach and Steve would be shit out of luck.  
  
No, it’s better to take it slow. Baby steps. And the first step of the plan? To actually befriend Tony. They work well together in the field but they’ve never been able to move past that into a more…convivial relationship. When it’s just them, and the suits and the masks and the personas are stripped away, things become awkward and their easy comradery in the field fades away into bickering and sometimes, explosive arguments.  
  
“It’s just sexual tension,” Clint explained away with a nonchalant shrug. That was two days ago already and Steve is still squirming over it. He’s not a prude--he knows what sex is. He’s even had it before. But thinking about himself and Tony like that is a dangerous road he doesn’t want to go down yet because then he’ll never stop. Remember: baby steps.

If he could ever make himself knock on Tony’s door, that is. Maybe he should come back another day. Clearly, he’s not ready for this.  
  
The choice is stolen from him when the door swings open and Tony steps through it, practically running face-first into Steve’s chest. Steve grabs Tony to steady him, and if Tony notices that Steve’s touch lingers a little longer than necessary, he doesn’t comment on it.  
  
“What can I do you for, Cap?” Tony’s voice is deceptively light but Steve can see in his eyes that he’s not too pleased to see Steve.  
  
Steve tries to remain calm under Tony’s intense gaze. He can  _do this_ , damn it. “Umm, I just wanted to ask if—I understand if you’re busy, you’re obviously a very busy man—but if it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if-”  
  
Now Tony looks amused. “Just spit it out, Cap, c’mon. You can do it.”  
  
Steve forgot to factor in one very important thing: Tony is a little shit and he makes everything difficult for everybody,  _including_  himself. But that just makes Steve all the more determined. So, though Steve can feel his ire rising, and though the urge to answer to Tony’s condescension with his own quip is strong, he pushes that away to focus on the problem at hand. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me tonight,” he asks in a rush, relieved to finally get the words out.  
  
Tony looks momentarily taken aback. “Oh, um. Sure? There’s this fancy new restaurant that just opened up; I have a standing invitation, so we could-”  
  
“I thought maybe we could just get some pizza or something,” Steve cuts in before Tony can get too far ahead of himself. “Not that that doesn’t sound nice and all, it’s just not really my thing.”  
  
Tony is studying Steve, his keen eyes taking in every shift of Steve’s muscles, every change in his expression. He’s trying to read Steve, trying to figure him out like a physics problem, probably searching for some kind of deceit or ill-will. Steve keeps his body loose and his expression open so as not to scare Tony away before they can even begin. This is a very crucial moment for them and Steve doesn’t want to mess it up.  
  
“Okay,” Tony says slowly, drawing out the vowels. “Sure, why not?”  
  
“Great! See you at eight!” Steve walks away before Tony can see his wide grin. It’s a little thing, sure, but it feels a lot like victory.


	2. Set

Steve meets Tony in the Tower’s commons at exactly eight o’clock. He’d showered and chosen to wear a blue shirt Tony had once said really “brings out those baby blues.” Apparently, it was the right choice because Tony looks at him appreciatively, his gaze sweeping up and down Steve’s body in a quick once-over that makes the skin on the back of Steve’s neck prickle.

“Lookin’ good, Cap.”

“You, too,” Steve says, taking in his own eyeful. Tony had also showered and his hair is still wet and curled loosely around his ears. Also by his ear is a small smear of oil the soap hadn’t reached. "Adorable" isn't a word in Steve’s usual vocabulary, but right now it’s the only way he can describe Tony. “But you’ve got some oil, here.” Steve points to the corresponding part on his own body.

“Oh, thanks.” Tony absentmindedly wipes at the spot, making the smear worse.

“It’s still—here, let me get it.” Steve licks his thumb and wipes the spot away.

Tony looks at him strangely, like he’s not quite sure what to say. Belatedly, Steve realizes that was probably a weird thing to do. To deflect from the awkwardness, he asks, “How did you get oil there, anyway?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “DUM-E got a little weepy and tried to give me a hug. He’s such a pest.”

Steve chuckles. “He missed you. He’s a good bot.”

Tony shrugs but Steve can see in his eyes the smile he’s trying to hide. “He has his uses. So, Cap, ready to go on our date?” Tony is being facetious but Steve can’t stop the heat from creeping into his cheeks. Thankfully, Tony doesn’t comment on it, as he’s too busy squinting at his phone. “I’ll just call my driver so he can meet us downstairs.”

“Nah, it’s a nice evening; let’s walk there.” Before Tony can argue with him, Steve grabs him by the elbow and pulls him into the elevator, hitting the button for the ground floor of the Tower.

The walk to the pizza place is quiet, though surprisingly it’s not too awkward. Tony seems more focused on things going on around them, which gives Steve a chance to focus on Tony. He takes in the relaxed way Tony is walking; the way his eyes flit from window to window, pondering over the various items on display; and the play of light on Tony’s gold ring. Steve’s gaze lands there more often than not. He wishes he could take Tony’s hand in his own, but he resists the urge; they’re not there yet.

Steve stops them in front of a little restaurant called Papa Palmiro’s Pizza Parlor. Tony comments on the alliteration, which Steve ignores. He pushes through the door and Tony follows close behind him. Inside, the décor is vintage and the lighting is warm and inviting—just as Steve remembered it. Steve ushers Tony into a corner booth and waits for the sole waitress, a pretty girl with dark hair and green eyes, to notice them. She sees them and smiles, and holds up her hand to indicate she’ll be there in five. Steve gives her a little wave.

“What is this place?” Tony asks.

“I used to come here back in the 40s with…a friend.” Steve hopes Tony doesn’t pick up on the falter in his voice. It’s not really something he feels like getting into right now. “The original owner died over a decade ago. His grandson runs the shop now.”

“It’s nice,” Tony comments. Steve is surprised not to hear any scorn in his voice. “Quaint. A far cry from the glitz and glamor of the world I grew up in.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Steve asks, suddenly anxious that he had made a bad choice.

Tony looks at him, considering. “No,” he says finally, softly.

Steve smiles. “Good.”

\-----

Steve considers their first “date” to be a hit. They ate gratuitous amounts of pizza; they actually talked, instead of arguing; and at the end of the night, after they got back to the Tower, Tony invited him down to his workshop to see the specs for the new suit. The best part? Tony wanted to meet up with him again later in the week, had actually been the first one to suggest it. That more than anything makes Steve think he’s doing something right, and that a relationship with Tony is an attainable thing for him.

After Steve finishes oohing and aahing over the new suit, Tony offers him a drink and although Steve can’t get drunk, he accepts. They camp out on the small couch in Tony’s workshop, and they’re close enough that their knees knock together and Steve can feel the warmth rolling off of Tony’s body. Steve knows it’s late and that they really ought to go to bed—they both have busy schedules in the morning—but he’s reticent to leave Tony. It’s the first time he’s ever felt truly close to the man and he doesn’t want to give it up. Not yet.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Tony says, picking up the thread of an old conversation. “Since you paid tonight, I think it’s my turn to treat you. Where would you like to go?”

Steve waves away Tony’s words impatiently. “It’s not important. That’s not what this is.”

“What is it, Steve?” Tony sounds merely curious but Steve can tell, by way of his hunched shoulders and how his fingers trace the edge of his tumbler around and around in a maddening pattern, that Tony is nervous.

Steve reaches over and takes Tony’s hand lightly. When Tony doesn’t pull away, he clasps it tighter. “I just want to spend time with you. You don’t owe me anything, Tony.”

Tony smiles a lot, but they always seem practiced or forced, and they never quite reach his eyes. The smile Tony is giving him now is genuine and soft, and it hits Steve full-force in the chest and steals his breath away.

\-----

Steve doesn’t see much of Tony the rest of the week. If he’s not down in his shop working on new tech for SI, he’s at a board meeting. If he’s not at a board meeting, he’s at a press conference. If he’s not at a press conference, he’s…wherever. Steve loses track after a while.

They talk sometimes during the week, whenever Tony has some downtime, but it’s not enough. Steve misses him and he looks forward to Saturday and their next “date” with much anticipation. He’s got something fun planned for them, something he thinks Tony will enjoy.

On Saturday afternoon he gets a text from Tony that he’s almost back to New York. Steve showers and gets dressed hurriedly. He practically flies down to the garage and jumps into the first functional car he sees. He gets to the airport just as Tony’s private jet is chugging down the runway and meets him out on the tarmac.

“Steve?” Tony is clearly surprised. He takes off his sunglasses and squints up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you out on our…thing,” Steve says.

Tony laughs incredulously. “Now? I _literally_ just got off the plane. Can’t I at least go home and shower?”

Steve shakes his head. “If I let you go back to the Tower, I won’t see you again for a week. Please?”

Tony heaves a great sigh. “I guess I have no choice. I would hate to be the one to break Captain America’s heart.”

“Great!” Steve wraps an arm around Tony’s shoulders and leads him to the car, Tony’s laughter trailing behind them.

\-----

“A carnival?” Tony asks dubiously.

Steve deflates a little. “Don’t you like them?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to one.”

Steve stares at Tony uncomprehendingly, not sure he had heard right. “NEVER?”

Tony shrugs, looking a little defensive. “I was busy.”

Steve senses there’s something Tony isn’t telling him. Probably a lot of somethings. Steve knows now Tony’s relationship with Howard was strained at best, but that’s about it. Tony isn’t very open about his past. Steve hopes one day Tony will trust him enough to tell him, but that’s not what he wants to focus on today.

“You’re in for a real treat,” Steve says as he leads Tony to the toll booth, purchasing each of them a day pass and one large roll of tickets. The booth operator hands them over a bit hesitatingly, clearly questioning Steve’s judgment.

“We’re never going to use all of those.” Tony points out as they walk down the midway.

Steve smiles. “They’re not all for us.” He answers the unasked question in Tony’s eyes by kneeling down in front of a young girl crying about the “big kids” who stole her tickets and now she can’t go on any of the rides. He shushes her and rips off a handful of tickets from the roll under his arm. The little girl squeals and gives him a hug then runs back to her parents brandishing the tickets and shouting, “Look what Captain America gave to me!”

Steve straightens again and turns to see Tony giving him a strange look. “I can’t believe you,” Tony says. “How can you be real?”

Steve shrugs sheepishly, having never been very comfortable receiving praise. “Are you hungry?” he asks to deflect from the moment.

Tony’s answer is his grumbling stomach. They walk over to the nearest burger stand and order what they want, bringing it over to an empty table in the shade of a large maple tree. Tony sits with a groan of relief, immediately taking a bite out of his burger. Steve sits next to him, straddling the bench so he can keep one eye on Tony and people-watch at the same time.

There are a lot of people at the carnival, which Steve should’ve expected since it’s a Saturday. It’s always a risk going out in public, but Steve doesn’t think anybody is going to bother them. There are a few people with their phones out, snatching stealthy photos of the pair under the tree and whispering between themselves. Steve can catch a few words, most expressing curiosity about why they’re there and what they’re doing, but no one has come forward, for which Steve is grateful. Normally, he’s more than willing to pander to his fans, but today he just wants to focus on Tony. Who, speaking of, is side-eying Steve with his own questions burning in his eyes.

“Penny for your thoughts, Cap?” Tony asks around a mouthful of fries.

“Just wondering what you’d like to do, if you’re done stuffing your face?”

Tony swallows and shrugs sheepishly. “I don’t know. You pick.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that; just pick something. We can do anything you want. We can go listen to the music, go on the rides, play a game. _Anything_.”

Tony seems to give his last suggestion some thought. “I bet you could win any one of these games with your…enhancements.” Tony’s gaze sweeps across his torso, considering the breadth of his shoulders and the circumference of his biceps. Steve flexes for his benefit and Tony laughs. “Fine; impress me, Rogers. Win me…that.” Tony points to a booth that is displaying one of the biggest teddy bears Steve has ever seen. Tony could probably make a bed out of it.

Steve smirks. Easy as pie. They finish their meal and clean up, then head over to the booth. Steve pays the man, grabs the baseball, and throws it unerringly at the pyramid of bottles, knocking them all over with a _plink_. He does it again and again and again, getting every bottle every time, even when Tony and the carnie try to up the ante by piling up more bottles. Finally, the carnie gives up the game and hands over the teddy bear with a grumble. Steve gives it to Tony who can barely wrap his arms around it.

“What the hell am I going to do with this thing?” Tony asks incredulously, faking annoyance, but Steve doesn’t miss the way Tony snuggles into it, or the smile he hides against its fur.

Before they do anything else, they take the bear out to the parking lot and tie it to the hood of the car. It looks ridiculous and Tony takes an entire album of pictures of them posing with it in the background. He sends them to all the Avengers with the caption _Cap Likes Me More Than He Likes You_. Steve gets a barrage of offended and annoyed texts minutes later, which he reads out loud to Tony. Tony laughs at all of them until there are tears in his eyes and he has to lean against Steve to catch his breath.

Steve wishes he had his sketchbook right now, to capture this moment in kohl to cherish forever. There’s a sparkle in Tony’s eyes Steve hasn’t seen before. Tony looks so happy, so carefree, and Steve is humbled that he was able to do this for Tony, was able to give him this brief respite from the stress of being Tony Stark and all the responsibility that entails. And now that he’s been given this gift, this chance to see Tony in such a new light--if he gets his way, if Tony lets him, he’s never going to stop being Tony’s buffer against the world.

“Come on,” Tony says, grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him back toward the entrance to the park. “Let’s go ride the roller coaster until we throw up.”

Steve looks down at his hand in Tony’s and feels another piece of this crazy puzzle slot into place.


	3. Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done! I really hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D Thanks to everybody who left/will leave kudos/comments. I really appreciate the love. <3

Things continue in this way for a couple of months. Steve or Tony bring up plans, they go out, and they have a good time. Nine times out of ten, Steve chooses their destination; and even if he doesn’t, even on the off-chance he lets Tony take him somewhere spectacular, Steve always insists on paying. Tony had argued about it at first, had railed against being spoiled so much, but gave up the gig after a while. He had explained that it was because now he could spend that money in much better ways, but Steve could tell he was secretly pleased.

Sometimes, though, they decide to stay in. Those moments usually wind up being some of Steve’s favorites. No matter how comfortable Tony is with him now, he still holds on to his persona when they’re in public. Which Steve gets, he just doesn’t like it. But when it’s just the two of them, Tony is much more relaxed and open, and Steve has become fond of the softer, quieter side of Tony.

One night, Tony comes to Steve and asks if they can switch up their plans for the evening. He says he’s not feeling well—something about a colossal headache—and asks if they could stay in or take a rain check. Steve suggests a movie and popcorn, which Tony scoffs at but doesn’t say no to.

“I guess now is as good a time as any to introduce you to the Wonderful World of Disney™,” Tony says, a mischievous smile curling across his lips.

“Disney was around in the 40s, Tony,” Steve points out.

“But now it’s _better_. JARVIS, play something from Disney’s Renaissance—it’s the best period for Disney movies, you’ll see—something that’ll make us hate ourselves but in a good way.”

JARVIS chooses a flick called _The Lion King_. This makes Tony both cringe and whoop with excitement.

“Should I be worried?” Steve asks.

Tony pats Steve on the shoulder in a placating manner. “Just trust me. You’ll love this.”

Steve does wind up enjoying it. Though by today’s standards the animation might be considered subpar, it’s leaps and bounds ahead of the animation he grew up on. The colors and the music and the zany characters hold his attention rapt.

And then _it_ happens and he feels like his heart has just been ripped from his chest and stomped on.

Steve turns to affix Tony with a betrayed look. “You monster. Why would you show me this? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“Steve, are—are you _crying_?” Tony guffaws.

Steve wipes the moisture from his cheeks. “ _You’re_ crying,” he mumbles.

“Oh, God, I made Captain America cry,” Tony sputters, trying not to laugh.

Steve huffs and throws a handful of popcorn at Tony. Tony catches a kernel or two in his mouth and gives Steve a toothy smile. Steve growls playfully and lashes out with his hands, digging his fingers into Tony’s sides. Tony erupts in laughter and kicks out with his feet, one knocking into the bowl and sending it and popcorn flying everywhere. The other catches Steve in the side and it surprises him enough to give Tony the upper hand. Tony tackles him to the floor and gives as good as he got, going straight for Steve’s weakest point: the backs of his knees.

Steve howls and bucks his hips, trying to throw Tony off, but though Steve has the greater strength, Tony’s a pretty scrappy fella and manages to hold on, using his thighs to stay clamped on to Steve.

“So much for that super-soldier serum,” Tony huffs, out of breath from laughing and trying to keep up with Steve’s flailing limbs. “Bet Howard is rolling in his grave right now, scandalized that little ol’ me was able to overpower his best project.”

“Uncle. _Uncle_ ,” Steve gasps out and just as Tony stills, hailing his victory to the ceiling and asking JARVIS to upload the video recording of his epic takedown to the Avengers network, Steve rolls them over and pins Tony underneath him, using his greater height and strength to push Tony into the carpet.

“CHEATER,” Tony yells, hitting Steve on the back with his closed fists. Steve ignores his protests, leaning more into Tony, looking down at him with a _what are you gonna do about it_ look. “Okay, _okay,_ I concede, _I concede_ , you big brute!”

Steve pulls back but doesn’t leave completely. He stares down at Tony and Tony looks up at him, their eyes locked and heat growing between them.

“Uh, Steve? You can get off me any time now.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles but still, he doesn’t move away. He can’t bring himself to. He’s suddenly very aware of the position they’re in and he’s afraid if he moves, he’s going to embarrass himself. He’s spent so long wanting nothing more than to get close to Tony and now, here Tony is pliant underneath him, his legs pinned by Steve’s hips and splayed to either side. Tony’s lips part on a sigh and Steve leans in closer to feel his breath on his skin, to smell the sweat and feel Tony’s chest heave against his own.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice is quiet, curious. Wondering. “What’s going on with you?”

Steve pulls back to look Tony in the eye. His body is telling him to go for it, to lean down and close the scant centimeters between them, to kiss Tony and never stop. But his mind is telling him to run away, to hide, to not put himself through this torture because it would be torture, wouldn’t it? To finally let himself have what he’s wanted for months, only to have it taken away from him? Because how could this man ever feel the same way? Tony is…Tony. He’s the stars and the sun and the moon; he’s _awe-inspiring._ And Steve could never compare to that. He was stupid to think he could.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I—I’m sorry.” Steve runs away then, leaves Tony there on the floor, rumpled and confused, and hightails it to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. He leans back against the wood and catches his breath, calling himself ten kinds of idiot.

So that’s it then. The moment he’s been building up to now for a few months, and when it finally happens, he can’t find the courage to follow through with it.

Steve groans and collapses face-down on his bed, wishing he could crawl under the covers and just disappear. How embarrassing. He’s never going to be able to face Tony now. He might as well move out and only come back when the Avengers need him to punch something, as that’s the only thing he’s good for now.

His phone rings. Steve fishes it out from his pocket and hits the Accept Call button, and puts it on speaker so he doesn’t have to hold it.

“Did you just run out on Stark?”

Steve groans. “I don’t need this right now, Barton.”

“Dude, what _happened_?”

“I got scared,” Steve mumbles into the blankets. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re _Captain Fucking America_. Get back in there and act like it! Put your big boy panties on and--”

Natasha’s voice comes over the line. “Steve. Don’t give up on this.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Steve is not whining, he’s _not_. It’s a legitimate question.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Clint again. “He’s so hot for you!”

Steve is glad they can’t see his blush. “I don’t know.”

There’s a bit of a scuffle on the other line and then Nat’s voice comes through again. Steve can hear Clint in the background, though it’s muffled. Maybe Nat locked him out of the room? “Steve. Tony is down in his lab. _Go to him_. Don’t let all your effort go to waste. Don’t hurt Tony like this.”

Steve hadn’t thought about it like that. Tony has such terrible abandonment issues, is used to people walking away from him when the going gets tough. He’s not going to see Steve’s departure as something Steve did wrong, he’s going to take it as another rejection. Tony is going to blame himself, is going to think _he’d_ done something to drive Steve away. Tony is going to think Steve hates him.

Damn. He’d really messed up.

Steve flies off of his bed and out the door, bypasses the elevator and bounds down the steps to Tony’s workshop. When he tries to open the door, though, it’s locked.

“Sir is busy.” JARVIS’ voice is cool, unwelcoming. “He wishes not to be disturbed.”

“You remind _sir_ that I know all of his override codes and if he doesn’t want to lose workshop privileges for a week, he’ll open this door.”

There’s a moment of silence then the unmistakable _click_ of the locking mechanism releasing. Steve does a little jig in victory then pushes through the door, immediately zeroing in on Tony standing a few feet in front of him.

“You’re threatening me now, Rogers?” Tony asks, his voice tense. Actually, Tony’s whole body is tense.

“I need to talk to you,” Steve says, advancing on Tony.

“Are you sure you’re not just going to run away again?” Tony asks.

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, stopping just an arm’s reach away from Tony. “I shouldn’t have run away; I was just--”

“What? Disgusted?”

“ _No_ ,” Steve growls, startling Tony a bit. Steve broaches the extra two steps it takes to bring him flush against Tony. He frames Tony’s jaw with his hands and brings their foreheads together. “You could never do anything to disgust me.”

“Remind me to show you the arc reactor,” Tony whispers between them.

Steve shakes his head, which has the added benefit of Eskimo kisses. “No; you’re beautiful.”

“So why did you run?” Tony’s voice is small, like he’s afraid to ask the question, or afraid of the answer he’s going to get.

“Because I’m a coward,” Steve admits with a sheepish little shrug. “I didn’t want you to turn me down.”

“As if I could say no to all of this,” Tony says with a leer and a lingering gaze Steve can feel drag all along his body. Then he turns serious again. “You should’ve just told me.”

“I know, I’m terrible,” Steve whispers. “Forgive me?”

Tony hums noncommittally, and there’s a playful little glint in his eyes. “I don’t know; I think I’m going to need some convincing.”

“I can do that,” Steve whispers against Tony’s mouth then leans in fully to press their lips together in a sweet kiss.


End file.
